


Somehow I Knew These Wings Were Stolen

by Alcoholic_kangaroo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Sibling Incest, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcoholic_kangaroo/pseuds/Alcoholic_kangaroo
Summary: Soulmate AU. On their twelfth birthday, all kids receive a second mark that matches their soulmates. So why is Jonathan's soulmark on his little brother's arm?





	Somehow I Knew These Wings Were Stolen

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I know I have a crapload of other stuff I should be writing but Jonathan/Will is obviously my favorite.
> 
> I wrote several pages of Byler for the other fic but then my dogs sat in thr keyboard and deleted every last word and I got too disheartened and needed to write something else.

You, looked at me as you walked in the room  
Like the red sea you split me open  
Somehow I knew these wings were stolen

-Our Lady Peace, All You Did Was Save My Life

* * *

 

Jonathan had always hoped he'd receive his second mark on his twelfth birthday. It wasn't unheard of. Actually, he had a good chance of it happening. Just above a fifty percent chance even, because that's how it works. That's how it's supposed to work.

Everybody is born with their first mark. They can be found about anywhere on the body, even on eyelids and tongues. Jonathan's is on his right forearm, right below the curve of his elbow, a common enough place and a convenient one to help spot his potential soulmate. Who knows, his soulmate's might be on the bottom of their foot so it's a good thing to have it where it's easily visible.

It was never a very auspicious mark. A broken heart, heavily lined in black, colored in deep red. Lonnie had scoffed at it and told Jonathan it was a shitty mark from a very young age. Had told him that his soulmate would hate seeing such an ugly mark appear on her body. But what does he know? Lonnie and Joyce's marks don't match.

The second mark comes sometime after the age of twelve. If you are older than your soulmate, then nothing appears. If you are younger, you receive it on your twelfth birthday and your soulmate receives theirs at the exact same time. Who knows why twelve is such an important year? That's just how fate works, apparently, arbitrarily and without explanation.

Jonathan looked all over his body on his twelfth birthday, searching for his soulmate's mark, even on the bottom of his foot as he thought might have been possible, but it wasn't there. It wasn't on the bottom of his tongue either, or hidden between his toes. It just hadn't appeared yet. It wasn't the worst thing ever. It just meant that his soulmate was younger than him. Just under fifty-percent of the population has to wait for their soulmate mark to appear after their twelfth birthday (just under because a small percentage of people do share a birthday, after all.)

For the first few weeks he checked his entire body thoroughly in the mirror every day. Then weeks turned into months and months turned into years. He stopped looking. He became disheartened.

A broken heart soulmark never seemed very uplifting. Maybe it's a unique mark. Maybe it means he has no soulmate. Surely some people are just unlovable.

Nobody else in his family had such a depressing sign on their bodies. Jonathan never got a good look at Lonnie's, but their mother's first mark is a half-filled wineglass on her inner thigh. Her second mark is a beer stein just a couple inches below it. She always laughs at it and claims it's a good thing she hasn't found her soulmate because the two of them must be a couple of alcoholics at heart. She sounds sad about it though, as another year passes and her soulmate still never makes an appearance. Or maybe they do and she just doesn't know because the inner thigh is not a convenient place to show off in public. Especially for men.

Will's mark is on his upper back, near his shoulder. It's a paintbrush, surprising to nobody who knows him. A plump, horsehair paintbrush dipped into a rainbow paint bucket apparently as an array of different colors glisten on the bristles. It fits his little brother perfectly, more perfectly than any soulmark Jonathan has ever seen, and he hopes with all his heart that his brother will find his perfect soulmate someday. Maybe his second mark will be complimentary like their mother's. Maybe a canvas on the opposite shoulder or a feathered writer's quill. Something poetically beautiful.

As he starts studying for his driving test, Jonathan begins to lose hope of such a similarly positive outcome in his own life. He knows four years isn't really that big of a deal. Some soulmates are ten years older, twenty years older, than each other. But who else has a broken heart on their inner arm? Who else is marked by the very sign of lovelessness from birth?

Jonathan passes his driver's test and Will asks him to take him out for ice cream in celebration. Of course he takes him, and they both get cones. Jonathan has his dipped, he enjoys biting at the cherry shell, and Will has his topped with rainbow sprinkles. They sit at one of the tables out front together and Jonathan watches Will's tongue scoop up the little candy chunks. They stain his tongue, leaving streaks of color that remind him of the paintbrush on Will's shoulder.

It's August. Just over half a year until Will turns twelve.

He feels a surge of affection and protectiveness overcome him as he watches his adorable baby brother happily licking at his sweet treat. If he had it his way he'd just freeze time as it is, let them relax for eternity on a beautiful summer day with ice cream and carefree hours to waste. Jonathan doesn't want Will to have to worry about finding love. He doesn't want him to stress out if he doesn't get his second mark on his birthday, or on the reverse side, to stress out trying to find his soulmate if he does. He wishes he could just keep him here as he is now, happy and unburdened.

The hour stretches out for weeks, and the next few months pass within minutes.

Will's twelfth birthday falls on a Tuesday. Their mother is already getting ready for work, looking for her shoes which she has again misplaced (they're kicked under the sink in the bathroom,) and Jonathan goes out of his way to rise early to make Will a special breakfast for the big occasion. They're having a small party for him on Saturday but Jonathan wants to give him at least a little something special to start the day.

Their mother is already yelling at Jonathan to make sure Will is awake. She always yells at Jonathan to make sure Will is awake. It's not that he's stupid or that forgetful, but Will is always overtired and in need of more sleep and Jonathan absolutely hates having to wake him up in the morning when he's so cute with those tiny little snores escaping his nose. Innocently lost in his dreams.

But he knows she's right. So he stacks up the last of the apple cinnamon waffles he's made, unplugs the waffle maker, and slips down the hallway to his brother's room. He knocks on the door, two quick taps, just to make sure Will isn't awake. When he receives no answer he opens the door.

Will lays on his side, facing the door. Fast asleep, his left arm is tucked under his pillow, his right arm lays on top of it, his small fingers curled up beside his face. He's still fast asleep, and dreaming going by the fluttering eyelids. He doesn't want to wake him mid-dream but he does have school this morning. So Jonathan walks over to the bed, ready to touch his shoulder and gently shake him because Will reacts better to physical touch than loud noises early in the morning.

His hand reaches out, almost touching him, stopping just two inches from his shoulder when he sees it. The soft underside of his brother's right arm is supple and inviting to touch but that's not what catches Jonathan's attention. No, that would be the small red and black soulmark freshly emblazoned into his brother's skin.

Jonathan's throat feels closed, like he can't breath. He wants to run away from the sight but he can't, that's not a possibility. So he does what he came here to do, grabbing Will by the shoulder and giving him a couple quick shakes.

“Time to get up,” he grunts quickly, not mentioning breakfast or his birthday.

Will blinks sleepily at him, but Jonathan is already out of the room before he has a chance to sit up.

He runs to the bedroom and removes his shirt. And thank God he didn't try to cook breakfast topless today, like he has in the past, because up on his back, near his shoulder, is a soulmark of a rainbow dipped paintbrush.

Their mother is gone by the time Will gets out of bed. He's too bleary eyed and tired to notice anything different at first. He shuffles into the kitchen and sits at the table, waiting for Jonathan to serve him his breakfast as he always does. His arms are at his sides, slack, except when he reaches up to rub at his eyes with his little fist. Jonathan knows he should mention it but he's scared so he just goes about his normal morning routine. Serving Will his breakfast, gathering his own books up for school, making sure Will's lunch money is in his bag, looking for the car keys.

Will eats robotically. When he goes to grab his drink he realizes Jonathan forgot to serve him his normal morning orange juice. But Will isn't spoiled, despite Jonathan's doting, and he gets up to pour a glass of the juice himself. It's not until he's holding the heavy carton of generic orange drink out from his body that he catches sight of the mark.

The carton lands on the floor, the contents quickly pouring out onto the tiles.

“I'm sorry,” Jonathan gets out, almost in a sob, but he's trying to hold back his emotions. “I don't know what I did to fuck this up so badly.”

Will just holds his arm out in front of his face, staring at the new splash of color on his skin as if in awe. And for the first time in his life Jonathan hates that his mark is in such a conspicuous place. This isn't something they can easily hide. Today, yes. It's March and it's still cold enough that Will is still wearing his flannel shirts and something long-sleeved wouldn't look strange on Jonathan. But it's nearly April and by May everyone else will definitely be breaking out the shorts and short-sleeves.

And Will, tiny little Will, he's so sensitive to temperature changes. He gets chilled in the winter and overheated in the summer. He can't wear long sleeves in the dead of summer, he'll have a heat stroke. And he loves spending time at the pool or river, he loves to swim. Jonathan likes swimming to, but he thinks about going to the pool now and everybody seeing the rainbow paintbrush on his shoulder. It's a large soulmark, not easily overlooked compared to Jonathan's own. If they went to the pool together, like they often do, they would stand out like sore thumbs with those large, colorful marks.

At least Jonathan's mark, from a distance, could be mistaken for as a birthmark or bruise.

“Why are you sorry?” Will asks, “This, this isn't something we had control over.”

But that doesn't feel true. Their marks are in no way complimentary. Nobody really knows how soulmarks work. What if Jonathan had somehow managed to overpower the magic of Will's true second mark? What if his desperation to find his own soulmate had forced itself onto Will's skin? It sounds crazy, he's never heard of such a thing happening, but how would anybody know if it had?

“You're my little brother,” Jonathan says, “I'm supposed to take care of you. Not, not defile you with inappropriate emotions.”  
“But-” Will begins.

“Finish your breakfast,” Jonathan tells him. “I have test first period, I need to go.”

“But-” Will repeats.

Jonathan doesn't give him time to expand beyond that single word. He's already halfway out the door, head down in shame.

 

* * *

 

Their mother finds out after school. Will tries to hide it from her but she hugs him and congratulates him on becoming a man and asks if any marks showed up. When he denies it, she makes him take off his shirt so she can “inspect” him. Jonathan has no idea if she would have asked him to strip down to his underwear if that had shown no results, but it doesn't matter because he's barely pulled off the flannel before she spots the mark on his arm.

She's excited at first, all she sees is a new red spot with no definition, and she grabs his arm to steady him so she can see it.

“Will! It's right here! On your arm!”

But when she recognizes the mark the smile on her face fades quickly. Of course she knows what both of their marks look like, she's a deeply devoted mother. She knows Jonathan's shoe size and Will's waistline and that Jonathan is allergic to ginger and that Will doesn't like lime Jello. Their soulmarks are a big, unchanging part of their identity.

Jonathan is decent enough to keep his head down in shame when she looks at him.

Normally, there is nothing to be ashamed about with soulmarks. Not unless you end up syncing up with maybe a renowned serial killer or something (there had been such a case with a twelve-year-old girl in Kentucky, said serial killer thirty years her senior and already in prison.) But Jonathan has never heard of a single case of two relatives being matched. Soulmate bonds are not just a sense of kinship, they're a deep, loving, romantic, and almost always sexual bond between two individuals. And while Jonathan knows that there can be non-sexual bonds, from what he's read they always involve two asexual individuals. Which really makes perfect sense, of course the person most perfect for you in the world would not be burdened by your asexuality.

But this is a mistake. Of course Jonathan isn't the most perfect person in the world for Will. And he's definitely not asexual. He's his fucked up excuse of a big brother. If he was so perfect he wouldn't have stolen away Will's true soulmate my commandeering his place on his skin.

“I don't know what to do,” Joyce confesses fifteen minutes and a bucket of tears later. “What kind of mother am I for this to have happened to her sons?”

“Mom, no,” Will objects, pressing up against her. She holds him in his arms. Their mother is not a large woman in any matter, she only comes up to Jonathan's chest, but Will is such a small boy she is able to envelop him easily in her embrace. Jonathan wants to join them. He wants to hug his mother and insist that it's not her fault, it's his fault, but Will is there and Jonathan cannot trust himself to touch Will.

He'll do whatever he can to make sure Will has a normal, healthy life. Even if it means never being with his soulmate.

 

* * *

 

Mike finds out about the soulmark within a few months. Will tells everyone else that it hasn't shown up yet, and they believe him, and he continues to wear long sleeves. Except that one morning in school, when he's in the bathroom washing his hands, Will pulls up his sleeves a little too far and Mike just happens to walk in.

Most other people wouldn't recognize the mark. Jonathan is not well known in their age group so nobody would immediately link it to Jonathan. But Mike has known Will's big brother almost as long as he's known Will and there is no hiding that from him.

But Mike is Mike. He doesn't judge.

“Soulmarks are always right,” Mike says with a shrug. “I've never heard of two brothers having them but if that's what will make you happy then I don't see why not.”

Why not?

Will had hoped for years that Mike would be his soulmate. He's older than Mike, so on his twelfth birthday he had expected, or longed for anyway, the absence of a new mark on his skin. He wanted Mike's puppy dog tattoo to appear on his ankle on Mike's birthday.

Still, Will can't bring himself to feel upset about the broken heart on his inner arm. It could have been one of the bully's or some old man or somebody in California he wouldn't meet until he was fifty. You always meet your soulmate, always, but you never know if it will be when you're an infant or on your death bed.

Knowing it's Jonathan is a relief in some ways. Jonathan was the first person he saw on his twelfth birthday. Jonathan is the big brother who has always taken care of him, watched over him, stood up for him, and doted on him. Despite Will's crush on Mike he's never felt as safe and loved with him as he has with his brother.

There mother is still trying to figure out what to do about this situation. She's stepping lightly around the subject, not wanting to tell them that this is a “bad” thing, but she keeps insisting they need to see somebody to “work through” this. A shrink. She wants them to see a shrink.

But she can't find any that she can afford. She's been calling around, seeking clinics that work on a sliding scale or maybe one that will even see them for free, but all of their fees are extravagant.

School ends. Summer begins. Joyce teaches Will how to apply foundation on his arm to cover his mark and to use hairspray to keep it in place. He hates the feeling of the goo on his arm and the smell of the spray. And he still can't go swimming with it. When it's just him and Mike he just slaps on a bandage and calls it a day. But he can't do that with Lucas and Dustin, they'll ask what happened to his arm.

Jonathan doesn't have to wear anything on his arm. But he can't go swimming anymore. Will feels guilty for having given him such a large, obvious mark in such an obvious location.

His brother tells him, with a weak smile, not to worry about it. It's not that hard just to make sure you're always wearing a shirt in public.

They don't have air conditioning in the house. Jonathan takes frequent cold showers throughout the summer to help him cool down. Then he lounges around the place in just a pair of old denim shorts and Will feels a lump in his throat as he watches him. No matter how many times he swallows the lump is still there. It's awhile before Will realizes it's because he's looking at Jonathan in a different way. He's not seeing his brother's body, he's seeing a man's body. A man's body with a smooth, leanly muscled chest and flat stomach. Jonathan has a little hair on his belly, just a line leading from his belly button to the waist of his shorts, and something about that makes Will's mouth water.

When Jonathan stands up and goes into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cold tea, Will's mark stands out so vibrantly on his shoulder. It makes him feel inexplicably proud. That's his mark. On his brother. On his soulmate. Jonathan belongs to him. If only Jonathan would realize it.

 

* * *

 

He's contemplating getting a tattoo. Something dark and large. Something with lots of black to cover up the paintbrush.

The soulmark isn't made of anything special. It's just skin pigment, despite the nearly magical glow of the paintbrush's bristles. He has seen tattoos on top of them in magazines. People will tattoo a wire or vine linking them. Or they'll alter them in some other clever way, like that couple with the matching teacup tattoos who had inked in a wave of red-brown tea splashing from one cup to the other.

Jonathan knows its a possibility. Maybe a film roll. It would cover up the paintbrush with a layer of dark brown and maybe he could have them alter it so it wouldn't be so easily distinguishable through the brown film.

But he knows he won't do it. Not really.

Jonathan loves his rainbow paintbrush mark. He takes his shirt off when he's alone in the bathroom and turns to look at it and sometimes a stupid grin appears on the reflection in the mirror. He tries to convince himself it's because he just likes the look of the mark, how it shimmers and positively glows. Maybe artistic people just get more artistic marks because he's never heard of one that appears to be woven with glitter.

Still, it might work for Will. Jonathan's own mark is small and ugly and noticeable. He knows most twelve-year-olds don't normally get tattoos but who would know? They could probably get some sort of special permission, given the circumstance, and anybody who saw it would just think it was his second soulmark.

He proposes this solution to Will. Who immediately tears up at the very idea.

“You don't want your mark on me?”

“Will,” Jonathan says softly, soothingly. “You're my little brother.”

“And I'm your soulmate.”

“You were my little brother first.”

He doesn't stop Will from climbing onto his lap. He can't stop Will from doing anything, in the scheme of things. He lacks the ability to say no to Will, he always has. But Will has always been such a good kid it has never been much of an issue before. The best he can do is advise him that “this isn't a good idea” when his brother leans in to kiss him.

Jonathan knows deep in his head that this is wrong. But in his heart it feels right. On his lips it feels right. Will's lips are small and soft and light as feather on his own. It's Jonathan who takes it further, who crushes his own mouth against Will's and deepens the kiss. He laps at his brother's tongue with his own and he tastes like the smell of freshly mowed grass. He tastes like generic breakfast serial on Saturday mornings in front of the television. He tastes like the all-encompassing presence of snow and cold pine needles on a freshly dragged in Christmas tree.

His hands go up to hold Will around his chest, gripping him right below his armpits where his chest is bony and his rib cage prominent. He rubs Will's chest with his thumbs, his other four fingers pressing into his upper back, up where he knows he must be touching Will's soulmark even though he can't feel it. His body is so tiny and narrow he's able to reach both nipples from this position. Jonathan presses down onto the little buds, stimulating them with his small, circular movements.

Will gasps into his mouth. Jonathan feels him shiver in his lap, feels the little buds harden beneath his shirt. His own cock is thickening in his shorts.

He breaks the kiss.

“You're my soulmate,” he tells his little brother, but his hands are still on Will's chest, kneading him.

“I'm your soulmate,” Will agrees, already pressing forward for more kisses.

“Soulmates don't treat each other like sex objects. If we're going to do this it's going to be slow.”

“Okay,” Will agrees. Jonathan is pretty sure he'd agree to anything if he'd just kiss him again.

 

* * *

 

It isn't normal. Of course it isn't normal. They're both boys, they're both teenagers, and they both came out of her uterus.

That said, what can she do about it?

They have the matching soulmarks. They're supposed to be together. Fate has told them they're the best person for each other in the entire world.

She can't just tell them that's not true. She can't forbid them from being together.

Joyce still thinks a counselor would be a good idea. But there are so many obstacles there. Not just the financial obstacle but the need to find one accepting of this circumstance. She doesn't want some doctor telling her sons they're wrong or evil or that they're going to Hell just because they love each other.

She never envisioned her sons being romantically involved with each other, but that doesn't mean she won't stand up for them a hundred percent or attack anybody who dare say otherwise.

After Will's birthday there had been a stalemate for several months. It had been an uncomfortable time. Jonathan had been quiet and standoffish. He had always been an affectionate son, not just to her but to his little brother, and to see him withdrawing from the family had been painful. But nothing she said to him had helped. Will had become more needy. Without Jonathan's frequent hugs and pats he had turned to Joyce for comfort, needing more coddling, even crawling into her bed sometimes at night.

That stopped mid-summer.

The signs had been subtle but immediate. They stopped avoiding each others eyes. They stopped stepping out of the room as soon as the other had entered. It was almost as if things had gone back to normal, though their touches were still more reserved than normal.

Then there had been the day when she came home from work early, a drunk driver had taken out a pole down the street and the cops had told everybody on the block there wouldn't be any electricity before tomorrow morning. She could have called but the option hadn't even occurred to her. And why should it? It's her own house. She has complete control over everybody and everything inside it. Her sons knew not to do anything she would disapprove of.

And what she walked in on she didn't necessarily disapprove of. But she didn't want to see it with her own eyes either.

They had been dressed, but barely. Jonathan in his jeans but otherwise shirtless. Will in just his boxers and those cute little Disney Robin Hood socks she had picked up at a yard sale. They were on the couch. Or rather, Will was on the couch, his back flush against the cushions, but Jonathan was on top of Will. She had no idea how long they had been kissing but by the red, bruised state of their lips she would say it had been awhile.

The sight of her older son lying between her younger son's spread legs stayed burned in her mind for a good while. But she couldn't even forbid them from having sex. Not if that's what seemed right to them.

But God, Will is only twelve.

She wouldn't have trusted anybody else to touch her son like that. He's always been so small and fragile compared to others his age, he would be so easy to break.

But Jonathan. Well, he's Jonathan. About as sweet and loving a son as a woman could ask for. She didn't want him touching Will like that. She didn't want to think about her two underage children acting like grownups. But if anybody was likely to be careful with Will it would be him.

One morning, she noticed the bottle of hand lotion missing from the bathroom. It didn't reappear and a couple nights later she awoke to the sound of sobbing.

Her mind immediately went to Will, which she knows is unfair to Jonathan because she should worry equally about both her sons. But no, she runs to Will's room without even thinking.

But his door is open and his bed is empty.

The sound is coming from further up the hallway. From inside Jonathan's room.

Why is her baby boy crying in his brother's room? She reaches for the doorknob but stops when she hears another muffled cry.

“Please.”

“Not yet.” The first voice is recognizable as her younger son's voice, the second as her elder's.

“I'm so close,” Will's voice is airy and ragged as if he's been breathing too fast for too long. “Jonathan, harder, please.”

“Shh.”

Joyce is shocked. Not at the idea that they're having sex, she knew it was coming, but she never expected to eavesdrop on them doing it. She moves closer, pressing her ear to the door. Telling herself she just wants to make sure that Will is okay.

They're not talking anymore and it seems almost too quiet. She jumps when she hears the bed hit the wall. Then there's a small whining noise and another quiet sob.

“Jonathan!” the voice comes out desperate.

The bed squeaks. It takes her a moment to recognize that particular sound. For a moment she thought it was Will, squeaking like a mouse beneath his brother's body. But no, it's the bed springs. By the rhythmic tone she can imagine how this is playing out. How fast and hard her older son must be nailing her younger son into his bed.

She licks her lips. She should just walk away. Will might be crying but he sounds like he's crying in pleasure.

She closes her eyes and listens. In her mind she can almost see the scene that lies just on the other side of this cheap wooden door. Jonathan would be on top and he would be between Will's legs. Will is a flexible boy, would they take that to their advantage? Would Jonathan grab his brother's scrawny legs and push them up against his chest, wide enough to split him apart?

That's how she images it. Will's legs over his brother's broad shoulders. They go quiet periodically and she imagines, knows, that they're kissing. They have to be kissing. And she imagines it's probably hot and wet and frantic and full of too much teeth and tongue because they're teenage boys and they don't know how to do such a thing with any sense of grace.

“Fuck.”

Absurdly, Joyce finds herself wanting to scold Will for cursing. Imagine how that would go, her storming into the room right now and telling him to watch his mouth. Well, if she was watching his mouth for him it would probably be pressed up close against his brother's right now.

The bed slams against the wall again. Then again. Then again. And now Will is full out moaning, loudly, and she can see that in her mind as well. Jonathan must be giving it all, the muscles in his back and butt taut and clenching, standing out firmly beneath his sweat soaked skin. She images what Will must see from below him, wet hair falling over love-filled eyes. Then she imagines what Jonathan must from above him. A heaving chest, lips parted, would his eyes be clenched shut in pleasure?

Will screams. It's jolting and mildly discomforting. Will screaming shouldn't be a good thing, he has never been the type of boy to scream for the fun of it, so it makes her want to rush inside to comfort him. But she knows that he's not screaming in pain.

It goes quiet after that. Joyce feels unusually warm.

She stands up straight and takes a step away from the door.

But she still catches the last few words before she walks away.

“I love you, Jonathan.”

“I love you more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about this. It's just really a drabble because I needed something short and easy to clear my brain. I just adore Jonathan/Will so much. Jonathan is such a good brother. I love how much hate I get for writing them when come on, have you guys read my shit even? It's cuddle smut.


End file.
